


The Avengers Go To Therapy or 5 Times Peter and Tony Take Care Of Everyone And 1 Time Everyone Takes Care Of Them

by addicted_2_fandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (not sexual), 5 + 1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Bad Days, Bisexual Clint Barton, Bisexual Tony Stark, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Crossdressing Peter Parker, Deaf Clint Barton, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Riley, Multi, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Polyamorous Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Red Room (Marvel), Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Suicide Attempt, The Avengers Need a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trauma, Ultron Mention - Freeform, weight mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/pseuds/addicted_2_fandoms
Summary: Based on that one Tumblr post by cockedtail "I need more Tony Stark facing his anxiety, more Clint Barton with his hearing aid" etc. turned into a 5+1 story.Clint has never had someone watch his six, luckily he has people to care for him.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Peter Parker, Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Everyone, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark & Everyone, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Everyone, Tony Stark/Avengers Team, Tony Stark/Everyone, Tony Stark/Sam Wilson, Tony Stark/Sam Wilson/Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Bruce Banner
Comments: 39
Kudos: 269





	1. Someone To Watch His Six (Not Just Stare At His Arse)

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the lovely [Callmetiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmetiny)
> 
> Thank you so much for helping me and dealing with my panic about the end of the chapter! Haha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really happy to finally be posting! This has sat in my drafts for a week so I can follow my schedule and I really hope you enjoy!

After an ‘accident’ that left him 80% deaf in his left ear and 75% deaf in his right ear - he wasn’t sure how they could tell the percentage but that wasn’t important - Clint stumbled through often confused and feeling very alone. It was hard being hard of hearing in a hearing world, hard being legally deaf in a noisy world. 

Clint often felt alone, nobody bothered learning ASL and treated him as though he was dumb for his hearing loss. Like somehow, being deaf or almost deaf, equated to being stupid. His wrist was constantly sore from writing notes to communicate, until he stopped. Why should he care to communicate with people if they didn't make an effort to understand him?

That was before the Avengers took him in, gave him a home when he had nowhere to go. It was after the whole Loki and New York attack and he was only starting to forgive himself for what had happened. Logically he knew he wasn’t to blame, but it didn’t stop the guilt and nightmares. He still didn’t feel like an Avenger, he was human amongst supersoldiers and spies trained from birth and people with massive metal machines and he was just him. 

For so long he’d been the one watching his six, never having anyone to do it for him. It was strange having Tony fly him around carrying him, while in the suit, Natasha calling to him through the coms about an oncoming threat, being part of a team. 

He hadn’t felt safe around people in a very long time, so it makes sense he wouldn’t feel completely comfortable in a tower with people who could kill him at a moments notice and make it look like an accident. Of course he realistically knew that they would never do anything like that to him, but trust issues, ok?

When he first got to the tower, he invested in a pair of crappy hearing aids and wore a beanie or hoodie everywhere, usually the latter. He didn’t want anyone to look down on him because of his hearing loss. 

It was really strange hearing things, without them he could hear virtually nothing, the house was filled with super soldiers and people with super good hearing. Loud noises could often trigger someone into a panic attack or a flashback, so the tower was often too quiet for him to hear without his hearing aids.

In order for him to avoid the questions from the others, or suspicion, especially since there are superspies in the tower, he stayed in the vents. Dropping in on others at different times and being annoying, pulling pranks and starting things. At least they just thought he was annoying, or childlike, but anything’s better than being seen as less than. He already had to fight so hard for a seat at the table, he didn’t want to give them an excuse to take it away.

He honestly hated wearing the hearing aids, they were so uncomfortable and purple! It was the only one he could get on such short notice, he’d rather just sign everything, he’d picked up ASL after going deaf. 

He reflected on everything as he laid in his bed, the tower was silent and even if it wasn't he’d taken out his god awful hearing aids, so he wouldn’t know. The day hadn’t started well for him, he’d forgotten to put on his hearing aids as he stumbled out the door and only noticed when he couldn’t hear a thud when he slammed into the wall. Groaning and rubbing his bruised shoulder, he stumbled back into his room, struggling to get in without the use of Friday, but he managed.

After grabbing his hearing aids and stumbling out the door, he tried to start the day over, before promptly tripping over his own feet. He sighed pulling himself back up, resigning himself to the fact that today would probably be a bad day. 

Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled over to the elevator not noticing that he hadn’t pulled on a beanie this morning and stumbled out on the common floor. 

“Clint? Clint, can you hear me?”

That question always made him tense up and become very aware of the purple hearing aids hidden, but wait they weren’t. Shit.

“Oh yeah, Steve. Sorry what was that?”

“You want breakfast?”

“Uh sure.” Clint answered, still shaken.

Clint excuses himself, rushing to the elevator before bumping into Natasha and feeling the sensation of his hearing aid falling out. Natasha scoops up the falling object and inspecting it. 

“Clint? Why do you have a purple hearing aid?” Natasha sounded confused.

Clint scowled at her, snatching the hearing aid off her and huffing. “You’re a superspy, use your deductive reasoning or whatever the crap it is you do and work it out!”

Natasha placed a soft hand on his shoulder, only for him to flick it away. “Clint.” She murmured, if he’d been less angry, he would have noticed how out of character that was for her.

“I don’t need your fucking pity and speak up, the deaf man can’t hear.” He all but growled out before storming off and getting into the elevator. 

He doesn’t remember how he got up to his room, but all he knows now is that he was perched in a pile of pillows and blankets on his bed. He left his hearing aids in, not wanting to miss a call to assemble. 

He found himself lulled into a restless slumber.

“Mr. Barton, Master Parker is requesting access, shall I let him in?”

Clint rubbed away the signs of tiredness in his eyes and pulled himself out of bed. 

“Uh, sure Fri. Let him in.”

“Friday, how many times have I told you to call me Peter?”

“I am sorry  _ Peter _ but in the words of Mr. Stark,” an audio recording of Tony rung out: 

“Well Fri, the moment he calls me Tony, you can call him Peter. But not a moment before.” Sounds of his workshop could be heard in the background.

Peter’s distinguishable laugh rang out through his room.

“Hi Peter.” Clint manages to rasp out, his voice lacking his usual sass and charm. 

“Hello Mr. Barton.” Peter signed in fluent ASL, spelling out his last name with a small smirk, covering a genuine small smile.

Clint looked confused for a moment. 

“You sign?” He cocked an eyebrow, moving his hands rapidly, the language welcoming him like an old friend. “Why little spider?”

“Well, before the spider thing, I was mostly deaf. Had hearing aids and hated using them.” His hands flew quickly, albeit a little jerkily. “Sorry, haven’t signed in a while.”

Clint was almost tearing up and hid his face in the blanket. He was aware that was a very childlike reaction to something so small, but he couldn’t help it.

“That’s ok kid. Thank you so much.” Clint pulled his head out of the blanket to sign to him.

“No need to say thanks, it’s nothing. Now are you going to come and try to beat me at Mario Kart, or should I ask Natasha?” Peter signed getting ready to jump off the bed that he had somehow migrated to, during the length of the conversation. 

“Coming kid,” Clint let out a laugh and relished the little smile Peter gave him. “Just gotta quickly do something.” His hands flew so fast, Peter could barely keep up with them.

He plucked purple hearing aids out of his ears and went downstairs with Peter. Their afternoon consisted of Mario Kart, snacks and a lot of signing. Both their wrists and arms were sore by the evening but neither could find it in themselves to care. 

Only Peter heard as the Avengers all slipped into the common floor. 

“Oh hey Pete, Clint.” Steve called to them.

“Hey guys,” Peter’s head peeked out from over the couch. Clint turned to see his spider friend hanging over the couch and turned behind him. 

Panicking the archer pulled down the younger male, rapidly signing. “What do I do Pete? What do I do?” He was making all sorts of faces to Peter, being more melodramatic than Tony Stark, which was saying something.

“I don’t know, you could tell them?” He signed back at once, well after he got Clint’s attention. 

“Could you? I kinda don’t wanna. You don’t have to.” The signs came out as a blur, slightly jumbled and frantic.

Peter just nodded. 

He peeked his head over the couch and motioned them over. “We’ve got to talk.” His face was serious and all the Avengers made their way over to the couch. He looked across all their faces, Cap looking stoic and concerned as ever, Bucky sitting to his left with his head on Steve’s shoulder. Natasha sitting there with a blank mask, Bruce and Tony were perched next to each other, while Sam stood in the corner looking concerned and muttering.

“Um, Clint is, deaf?” It came out more as a question and he signed along so Clint knew what he was saying without his hearing aids. 

The Avengers erupted into chaos, everybody talking over the other and being obnoxiously noisy, while Clint just stares at the chaos, only just hearing their overlapping tones. 

“Guys, shut up! While Clint may be deaf and not have to deal with this shit, I’m not anymore. So pipe the fuck down.” Signing while he spoke, he checked over to see Clnt cackling and surveyed the rest of their shocked faces, no one had expected Peter to have an outburst like that, no one even made their usual ‘language’ comment. 

Tony is the first to recover, clapping his hands jumping up, before sitting back down and rapidly signing to Clint.

  
  


  
“You little bitch boy, why didn’t you tell us about your hearing loss?” Tony signed, enjoying the look of awe on everyone's faces.

“Cause, it would become this.” Clint gestures around before he continues signing, “and I didn’t want it to be a big deal. But now it is, and everyone’s gonna be treading on eggshells around me and making sure they don’t say something that offends me.”

Peter watches this conversation going on and follows along, while everyone gazes intensely at the two, shifting their glances side to side, as if at a tennis match.

“I know, it’s only because we love you. But.”

Clint can now see him forming words, but he still signs as to not leave the archer out of the conversation.

  
  


“Listen up, chucklefuck, and no I do not take constructive criticism. Our good friend here, or enemy, pop tart thief is indeed deaf, hard of hearing, got a hearing loss, the whole shebang. So he doesn’t have to listen to y’all’s disgusting voices, yes I know that my Harley jumped out Peter, shush. Anyway, treat him any different and I’ll smack you with my gauntlet.”

He turns to Clint, who has tears of laughter streaming down his face. “Hearing aids, no hearing aids?” He signs, not saying the words out loud.

“I would prefer none, but in battle I will wear them.”

Tony claps again. “This fuckface is not gonna wear hearing aids around the tower, learn to sign or get a life. He will however wear them on the battlefield. Any questions?”

The team erupted again. “Good, my office hours are, who am I kidding, I don’t have any. Clint, Peter, let’s go.” He’d stop speaking out loud for the last bit, flicked his imaginary hair over his shoulder and followed the two out of the room. 

“You okay Barton?” He signed once in the safety of the lift.

“Dude, that was fucking awesome.” Clint raised his hand for a high five and almost missed despite being literally trained in hand eye coordination. 

“Alright, to talk to Friday, without actually speaking sign D-E-A-F or use the sign  _ deaf _ .”

A floating menu popped down with the title ‘elevator’ and a lot of little buttons for floors, like ‘floors 1-10’ and ‘floors 71-80’, “Just click on the preference and go.” Tony signed. “This will work anywhere in the tower and you can ask Friday to remember certain preferences. Now down to the lab baby girl.”

“Why are we going down there?” Clint looked confused and Peter, well he was used to his ‘boss’s’ shenanigans and didn’t sign squat. 

“Ok, since I know how annoying hearing aids are, having listened to Peter whinge for hours about them, Stark Industries has started a line of hearing aids that are comfortable and small. Now I’m not telling you this to make you wear them around the tower, but on the battlefield if you wanted to wear something comfortable.” Tony was starting to look nervous at this point, “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but uh, I,”

His hands started faltering. “Um, some hearing aids.” He rushed over to a small inconspicuous box, and took it to Clint.

“Aw Stark, proposing? Take a guy to dinner first, but don’t expect me to put out the first date.” Tony looked almost constipated and smacked Clint upside ‘round the head. 

“Nah, it’s hearing aids you dumb shit.” Clint pulled the hearing aids out of the box, with so much reverence and care that Peter, who had just been watching the scene, and Tony felt like they were intruding on a special moment. 

Clint put them in and motioned for Tony and Peter to talk and oh my god, had sounds always been this clear? 

“How is it Clint?”

“Oh wow, it’s good.”

“I noticed you stopped yelling.” Tony laughed.

“Must be a product of a genius.” 

“Must be.”

Clint pulled one aid out of his ear inspecting it closely, he hadn’t had a proper look at it before sticking it in his ear. It was a sleek metal one, with a polished finish. 

“Hey Tones, if it’s not too much to ask, do you have a purple one?”   
  


Tony raised his eyebrows in shock but nonetheless walked to another box and pulled out an identical set in purple.

“Made them in all different colours, can’t have Mr Barton not having a choice, now could I?” Tony’s tone was light and posh, but Clint could see fondness behind his eyes. 

They were so wrapped up in each other, that they didn’t notice when Peter slipped out. 

Before he could think too hard about the consequences, Clint lurched forward and captured Tony’s lips in a messy, awkward kiss. Tony responded almost immediately, wrapping his arms around the thin archer and pulling him close, before pulling his head back and resting it on Clint’s forehead.

Tony and Clint stood panting in the middle of the messy lab, sharing air between them.

“That’s one hell of a kiss Barton.”

“Barton? Bit past that aren’t we Stark?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “So what does this make us?”

Clint’s face was nervous, more so than Tony had ever seen it. 

“So,” Tony begins, “We could pretend this never happened, go back to our lives and be strictly teammates, but we both know that won’t happen. Or, you could say yes to being my boyfriend?”

“Yes, yes. 100 times, yes!” Clint pulled him in for another kiss by the front of his shirt. 

They pull back looking dazed again. “Also I’ve got to mention, I’m poly. I can like more than one person and I do. Is that going to be a problem in the future? Obviously you would be involved in the relationship if you so wished and I wouldn’t do anything that made you uncomfortable, but I needed to put that out there.” 

“Honey, that’s not gonna be a problem. I’ve heard what the media says about you, but. I’ve gotta say, they said you’d be an arsehole, and you’re only marginally over what’s considered normal. I trust you honey, but tell me more so I can understand, if this is who you are. Then I’ll accept you.” Clint spoke while peppering Tony’s face in kisses.

“Wow, who knew Barton could be sappy?” Tony smirked, looking cocky.

“Ruining a perfectly good moment Stark.” He feigned disappointment, shaking his head in faux annoyance.

“Well, you know how it is, not giving you a break just because we’re dating or ‘cause you’re deaf. Gonna have to deal.” They both let out a loud laugh, happy that nothing was gonna change. 

“I think I can, also how did you know ASL?” 

“Story for another time.” Tony whispered in his ear, blowing against his neck. 

“Fucking hot,” Clint groaned, pulling the genius into another kiss.

And well it got Tony out of the lab and Clint some sweet new hearing aids, which he surprisingly used a lot more often than he’d thought he would. So, he guesses Natasha finding out wasn’t the worst thing, and he’s sure his boyfriend would agree. 

“Hey Barton, stop thinking so much and kiss me.” 

“Sorry Stark.”

And yeah, he had someone to watch his six now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, to see when this is being next updated check my [Updating Schedule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/profile)
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, next will be Bruce Banner! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!


	2. How Would You Feel About Another Boyfriend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bruce had made his confession, he holed himself up in his lab. What he couldn't work out was why Peter was asking for help? And wasn't Tony with Clint? Also who is Ed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> **Mentions of attempted suicide and self-deprecation** Please don't read if this could trigger you!
> 
> Betaed by [Callmetiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmetiny/pseuds/Callmetiny)
> 
> Thank you so much for noticing that I accidentally changed tense from past to present... um, I'm dumb?? I always do that? So thanks for putting up with my dumb assery... 
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy this chapter and yeah!

It had been a few days since Bruce had told the others about his attempt. He remembers the conversation vividly. He still can’t quite figure out what made him say it, but he had admitted that he couldn’t be killed. Admitted that he had tried. Admitted the only reason he was still here was because of the  _ other guy _ . 

  


“I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it out.” He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes after that. He had traipsed back to his lab, avoiding contact with the others for 3 days now. He hadn’t come out for team dinners or bonding activities, he refused to leave his lab. 

  


He wasn’t only holed up because of his attempt or the confession, it was the Hulk. The last few missions hadn’t gone so well, and well, the Hulk was dangerous. He couldn’t say otherwise, he put the team in danger and civilians too every time he went out. He knew the Hulk was deadly, but that was all people seemed to care about. 

  


Whenever he would be approached in public, it would be about the Hulk. Nobody cared about the guy living with him. He supposes that was the reason that he put a bullet… No, he couldn’t think like that.

  


The others left food. Well, Tony did. He knew because he always requested access to his lab and honestly he didn’t think that Tony had ever left his lab this often in this short a period ever. He always knew that at 7am on the dot breakfast would be outside and that at 12:30pm lunch would be waiting and at 7pm there would be a massive serving of whatever someone had cooked. 

  


He often also got one in the middle of the night, as neither genius slept, and little snacks throughout the day. He was always so grateful to Tony, never requesting he come out, just asking him if he was ok and if he wanted anything else. 

  


Most days Bruce cried, never when Tony was outside. He had been in his lab a week at this point. Even he knew that was unhealthy. As he was getting ready to leave at 9:30 in the evening, Friday spoke.

  


“Dr Banner, Mr Parker is requesting access to your lab. Shall I let him in?”

  


Bruce contemplated letting him in, on one hand he was about to leave the lab anyway and this was Tony’s intern and kid (don’t tell Tony he thought that) but on the other, the kid probably just wants an autograph from the Hulk. Against better judgement he calls back.

  


“Open up.”

  


A ball of energy comes bursting into the room. Peter sticks out his hand to Bruce.

  


“Hi, Dr Banner. U-uh, um.” He only just managed to stutter his way through the sentence. Dr Banner? Huh, he already liked this kid.

  


“Hi, I’m Peter Parker. Wait, you probably know who I am. Um, but we haven’t really met. I mean we have, but it’s just, that was always with Mr Stark.” The kid was rambling now, just spewing whatever thought came to his head and yeah, he reminded Bruce a lot of Tony.

  


“Kid, slow down. What’s wrong?” Bruce tries to calm down the hyperactive teen, who honestly looks like he had 3 cups of coffee before coming to the lab. It was 9:35pm, yeesh.

  


“Um, it’s just, um you’re…” He starts.

  


Bruce sighs. “Yes the Hulk, I know.”

  


“No,” Peter shakes his head really fast. “Like the most renowned scientist of our generation! I read those papers you did on gamma rays and let me tell you? It was amazing! Don’t even get me started on your paper on Quantum Physics. You’re incredibly smart. But you already knew that. I did have a few questions though.” 

  


He started a rapid fire list of questions before stopping. “Oh, sorry. You’re probably busy. I’ll go.”

  


Bruce’s eyes were wet with tears. “No kid, wait.” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you as well. I can’t believe it. You prefer  _ Bruce _ over the  _ Hulk _ ?”

  


Peter’s eyes widened. “Of course, you’re a revolutionary scientist and have done so much in the discovery and exploration of Quantum Physics. You’re like, a superhero, no wait genius. Supergenius! You should get that on a mug.” His eyes were sparkling with admiration, for someone he obviously looked up to.

  


“Did Tony put you up to this?” Bruce looked suspicious.

  


“N-no, of course not.” Peter stuttered out. 

  


“Please don’t tell Mr Stark I’m here.” He rushed out.

  


“Well what’s up? I’ll see if I can help you.” Bruce says, slightly confused. Wasn’t this the kid that looked at Tony like he hung the moon?

  


“Well, see. I kinda need help with a science project that I didn’t do ‘cause I was patrolling… And Mr Stark said that if I didn’t do my homework he’d take away suit and lab privileges this time.”

  


Bruce laughed.

  


“But if you’re busy no problem.” He rushed out again.

  


“No kid, it’s fine. Come in.” His throat was closing up and his eyes tearing. Wow, he wanted to work with  _ him. _

  


“Okay, so I was thinking of making a…” They talked all night about Peter’s project and building it. By the time the sun was coming up, they were putting the finishing touches on it and writing the conclusion for his report (which he also failed to do).

  


They had stayed up only fueled by coffee and red bull, which somehow Peter had managed to acquire some time around 2, Bruce didn’t ask. Bruce didn’t even think about the Hulk or anything going wrong on that mission all night.

  


They were so enthralled in the project that they didn’t notice the time until Peter’s phone rang. 

  


“Dude, have you finished the science project?” Ned’s voice came through the speakers clear and loud.

  


“Why are you only asking me this now?” Peter sounded concerned. “You have done it, haven’t you?”

  


“Yeah,” He could practically hear his friend rolling his eyes. “I’m only asking about it because of patrol.”

  


“Oh yeah, that.” Peter sounded sheepish talking to him about not doing his work. “Actually I got some help.”

  


“Mr Stark? Impressive.” He deadpanned.

  


“No, Dr Banner helped me.” Peter mumbled back, reading for the yelling.

  


“Oh my god, really?” he could hear Ned hyperventilating over the phone. “The Dr Banner, supergenius, guy from the picture at school, Quantum Physics, 7 PhDs Dr Banner?”

  


“Calm down dude, yeah him.”

  


Ned who had been on speaker for the length of the conversation had started on a rant again about how awesome he was and how revolutionised the field. Bruce was standing there slack jawed, peering at his coffee like it might be poisoned or a hallucogenic, because honestly that was the only reason he could fathom two kids being more interested in him and his work than than the Hulk. And wow wasn’t that something.

  


Ned started on a list of questions, not unlike how Peter had just the night before and only stopped talking when Bruce answered one of his questions. 

  


“Oh my god, I’m on speaker? Peter why didn’t you tell me, oh my god. The Dr Banner just heard me rambling about him. Oh no, Peter is the world spinning?” Ned was being more dramatic than Mr Stark in Peter’s opinion.

  


“It always does dude.”

  


“Oh, I sound so dumb. Just leave me here to die.” 

  


This time Peter did let him know that he was more dramatic than Mr Stark. 

  


“Oh kid, you’re actually pretty smart. Peter, what do you say we invite him down to my lab one day and see how smart he really is?”

  


Bruce had no idea why he was doing this, the only person he ever let into his safe space was Tony and these two prepubescent teenagers were definitely  _ not _ Tony. But judging by the smile on Peter’s face and Ned’s fangirling, he did the right thing.

  


“See you then, I’ll tell Peter the details to send to you.”

  


They didn’t talk for long after that, soon hanging up the phone in favour of Ned getting ready for school and Peter getting more lab time.

  


Neither man spoke until Peter turned around and gave him a huge hug. “Thank you Dr Banner.”

  


He quickly jumped off the man realising what he had done. “Um, sorry.” He said, looking down at his worn sneakers.

  


“Um thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he stood in silence across from Bruce.

  


“Hey no problem kiddo, call me Bruce. It was a pleasure working with you.” He stuck out his hand not unlike how Peter had done the previous evening. He didn’t say, but Peter’s wide grin and flushed cheeks meant the world to him.

  


“Dr Banner, Mr Stark is requesting access.” Friday’s voice rang out.

  


“Um, let him in.” Bruce said to the voice in the roof as to not make Peter suspicious. He was sure the young boy didn’t know about the conversation that had taken place earlier that month.

  


The door of the lab slid open, leaving a gaping Tony holding a tray of food outside his lab. Peter looked visibly panicked. 

  


Tony spoke first, possibly not having seen Peter, “Hey Brucie, finally opened up?”

  


Bruce quirked his head in Peter's direction, who awkwardly waved to Tony, “Hi Mr Stark.” He flinched as it came out of his mouth.

  


“Peter?” Tony now looked visibly confused, if he hadn’t before. Bruce gave him a ‘we’ll talk about it later’ look. He nodded. 

  


“What are you doing in Brucie’s labs?” Tony’s outwardly confident demeanor came back, one that Peter did not buy, but did not comment on knowing it was none of his business. 

  


“Um,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

  


“Did you get any sleep last night,” Tony asked looking between the two disappointedly. “Either of you?”

  


He raised an eyebrow at the two guilty scientists. 

  


“Careful, your parent’s showing.” Bruce laughed trying to take the attention away from Peter and making a joke at the same time.

  


Tony turned red and started sputtering. “U-um, no. Don’t try to turn this around on me.”

  


Tony gave Bruce a look, he stepped closer to the supergenius. “You feeling better?” he murmured lowly.

  


Bruce gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod which Peter pretended not to notice. He didn’t want to intrude on the two scientists’ moment. He stepped back from the scene, closing down the holographic plan they had pulled up sometime around 12 the previous night. He sent his report to Pepper’s printer (he’d already called and asked, he wasn’t about to face the wrath of Pepper) and started packing away the left out tools.

  


The two stopped whatever silent conversation they were having hearing the sound of tools hitting drawers and machines powering down. They were both grateful that Peter wasn’t asking too many questions, or any at all for that matter.

  


“Pete,” Tony started, not sure how to approach the situation. “You’re not gonna ask questions about what’s happening?”

  


Peter was usually a curious kid, a bit socially awkward, not knowing the appropriate time to say things or make jokes. Like in the middle of a battle or in a tense situation, but he just shrugged.

  


“Not my business. Plus if I ask questions, then so will you and I don’t want to answer them.” He turned the sentence into a joke and Tony wondered when this  _ kid _ had gotten  _ better _ than him at defusing situations and reading rooms.

  


“What were you doing down here anyway Underoos?” His voice turned teasing and he ruffled Peter’s hair, he cast a significant look at Bruce, letting him know what the question really was ‘Is he okay, and why is he in here?’

  


He had the decency to look sheepish as he told Mr Stark he was on patrol and promised to do his homework and assignments earlier in the future. Tony just gave him a side hug and shook his head fondly.

  


“Early night tonight,” He warned the younger, also casting a glance at Bruce, letting him know that the warning hadn’t just been for Peter.

  


“ _ Yes _ dad.” Although it was said in a teasing way, both understood the gravity of the word, even Bruce who looked away to give the two some privacy. 

  


“Alright Underoos, you best be on your way. Don’t want to leave Ted waiting.”

  


“His name is Ned.” Peter rolled his eyes fondly.

  


“Alright Ed waiting.”

  


“Mr Stark.” Peter giggled.

  


“Yeah yeah I know. Now shoo.” Tony made shooing motions with his hands, making all three laugh.

  


“Speaking of which, is it okay if he comes over this weekend?”

  


“Always kid, but you do realise we have the ‘internship’ thing all weekend.” He put brackets around internship, knowing they would end up on an inventing spree on the Friday evening, not sleep until like Saturday afternoon, and pass out watching movies until Sunday evening, when he’d do his homework.

  


Peter looked over at Bruce who nodded his head, “Well Dr Banner has agreed to let Ned come over and ask him a bunch of questions and maybe do some science with him.”

  


Tony looked really confused at this, but decided to ask when Peter left. 

  


“Well in that case, sure. Now go before you’re late for real.” He seemed to be mentally making a list. “Um, lunch is cafeteria food, couldn’t be bothered making a sandwich, and um, Platypus is picking you up today seeing as Happy will be driving Pepper to the airport and, uh. Oh yeah, don’t forget your project and have a good day squirt.”

  


“Thanks Mr Stark.” Peter said rushing out the door after giving Tony and Bruce a massive hug each. 

  


“M’not that old!” Tony called at the retreating figure, who was laughing his arse off.

  


He turned back to Bruce and picked up the forgotten breakfast tray. “Breakfast?” he offered weakly with a shrug of his shoulders.

  


“Sure,” Bruce replies, not sure if he could muster anymore than that one word.

  


They make small talk, or science talk if you want to be specific and refilled their coffee mugs.

  


“Hey, Brucie-bear. It’s been a while since we talked.”

  


Bruce just grunted, a little embarrassed, feeling all too much like a nuisance. “Sorry,” he murmured almost too low for Tony to hear.

  


“You’re doing alright? If you don’t want to talk about what happened we don’t have to.”

  


Bruce shook his head really fast. “No, I should talk about it. It was at a point in my life I was feeling really low, worse than when the other guy went and smashed down the primary school the other day. I guess I couldn’t do it and found out I couldn’t die. Well at least not by anything that would kill a human. I don’t know, I guess the primary school just brought up all the bad memories. 

  


“I’m a bad person Tones, the Hulk is uncontrollable and how can you trust me when I tried to put a bullet in my head? I’m so goddamn weak. Asides from that, all people care about is the Hulk! Whenever I go out, it’s all ‘you’re the Hulk!’ or ‘you’re the massive green guy’ and even once ‘you’re a menace to society and dangerous’. Which personally I agree with.” He mumbled the last bit, but unfortunately Tony heard it. 

  


“That is not true.”

  


“Yes i-.” Bruce tried to interrupt.

  


“Uh uh, no interrupting me when I’m speaking. You are not a bad person, or a monster or whatever evil specimen you’ve concocted of yourself in your head. Would I have brought you food everyday, do not feel guilty about that, would I let Peter near you if I thought you were dangerous? Would I be sitting here trying to convince you that you are anything less than perfect? No, I would not. I don’t do sugarcoating, not how I was raised and I can’t stand it. You are not a bad person, being controlled by something dangerous doesn’t make you bad. 

  


“We all have superpowers and somewhat murderous tendencies, yes we’re dangerous, but only when we choose to be. We only use it when we choose. I know you can’t always control, though we could get you on weed, anyway, you never have to be the Hulk again if you don’t want to be. Hell, I’ve actually murdered thousands of people by selling my weapons to terrorists and warmongers. I can’t do anything to change that, but I can try to do better. Ok? That’s all we can do, try to make up. Even though you have nothing to make up for. With your research you’ve saved thousands. Ok?”

  


Bruce was stunned silent for not the first time that morning. “Also, what was Underoos doing in here? Hell, you barely let me into your lab!”

  


Bruce laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”   
  


“No don’t be sorry,” Tony interrupted again. “I’m not mad, nothing bad happened. It’s just that you never let anyone in here.”

  


“Oh yeah. I don’t know. I was about to leave and then he came down and asked for help on his science project, and he was really smart, asking all these questions about my work. Only talked about the Hulk once, when I asked him who he preferred, spoiler it was me. He’s just got a heart of gold and the same tendencies as you and now his friend’s coming over and I’m thinking of offering an internship. I don’t know, he preferred me over Hulk, he talked to me about my papers and was genuinely interested. I guess, I don't know?” He sounded so unsure throughout the whole spiel, talking about how smart Peter was and how he reminded him of Tony.

  


Tony laughed, “I get it. I never thought I’d have an intern either, but here we are. Kid worms his way into everyone’s heart.” They both have a laugh at that. 

  


“Hey thanks for bringing me all that food when I kinda hid away in my lab.” His voice once again went soft and sort of unsure. 

  


“No need to thank me, I’m just doing my job as a parent, like you said.” At this point his voice turned cheeky. “But if you wanted to say thank you, you could take me out to dinner?”

  


Bruce turned red as a stop light. “Um, like a date?” he squeaked out.

  


Tony nodded smugly.

  


“But aren’t you with Clint?” Bruce managed to get out as Tony was leaning closer.

  


“Polyamorous, darling.” Tony smirked.

  


Bruce gulped loudly once before closing the gap and kissing Tony, while Tony grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, knocking the food off the table. 

  


They pulled back, sitting in their own seats linking hands. 

  


“Can I take that as a yes?” Tony smirked, clearly pleased with himself. He seemed to be doing a lot of smirking.

  


“I guess science bros could be science boyfriends.” Bruce laughed. What he didn’t expect, which honestly he should’ve, was Tony leaping up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and dancing around like a maniac.

  


“Do you have to go tell Clint?” Bruce asked warily, not upset if the excitable man ran off to tell the archer.

  


“Oh, yeah. Shoot. I’ll go do that, I’ll be back in a minute.” He ran off really fast, almost tripping on his way out before walking back in with a confused archer.

  


“What’s happening?” He looked like he had pulled out of bed, his pajamas ruffled and hair like a cockatoo.

  


“He said yes! Brucie said yes,” Tony yelled, sure that the whole tower could hear him.

  


“Ok, well you make it sound like a marriage proposal, dumbass. Now if you will excuse me, your  _ boyfriend _ needs food.” He looked over at the breakfast tray. 

  


“You never bring me breakfast.” He pouted. Tony presses a kiss against his pouted lips and laughs.

  


“Yeah well, you don’t do squat for me either. At least Brucie-bear helps me with Iron Man stuff.”

  


Both men started complaining. 

  


“I told you not to call me that.”

  


“Hey I do stuff, just cause I can’t help with Iron Man stuff…”

  


He cut both of them off with a hand. “Come on you big babies. Let’s go upstairs and eat together. Bruce and I could eat again.”

  


He grabbed them both by the hand. “Come on, you’ll both get along great.”

  


They both lagged behind slightly as he pulled them along, talking to each other. “Did he drag you into this as well?” Clint laughed lowly, Tony ignoring them.

  


“Yeah, but we love it,” Bruce stage-whispered. 

  


“Yeah we do,” Cint responds again.

  


“Peter also involved?” Bruce whispered back.

  


“Yeah. Kid’s like a wizard. Straight up walks into the room, makes it better without even talking about it and leaves?”

  


“Didn’t tell him what was wrong, he just knew what to say?”

  


“Alright stop gossiping, I’m making brunch,” Tony suddenly announced, the other two not realising where he had taken them.

  


“Um, no you’re not.” Clint jumped in front of the stove.

  


“Why not?” Tony pouted.

  


“Cause you’ll poison us,” Bruce chipped in.

  


“Rude,” Tony stuck his bottom lip out. “Who do you think’s been making your breakfast and lunch.”

  


“I’m assuming Wilson does breakfast after his run and lunch is made by Rhodey or whatever you order. Sometimes Pepper and dinner’s a roster.”

  


“Fine.” Tony stomped his foot.

  


“Friday, order some brunch from that place down the road, our usuals please?” 

  


“Yes Dr Banner.” Friday replied.

  


“Come on, cuddles on the couch?” Clint made puppy dog eyes at Tony and Bruce. 

  


“Ok,” Bruce shrugged before slinging Tony over his shoulder.

  


After a lot of protest by Tony, laughter by Clint and fond smiling by Bruce, their food arrived. So they decided to just watch Disney movies all day and eat lots of junk. It was good and the other guy wasn’t the only reason he was living now. He was living for him and his boyfriends and for Tony’s little protege, but mostly him. And yeah, he liked the sound of that.

  


“So how would you feel about another boyfriend?” Tony randomly asked half way through Tangled.

  


“Tony!” They both exclaimed at once, exasperated. 

  


Yeah, he really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, I know I absolutely adored writing this chapter, leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed. Comments and criticism welcome!
> 
> Also please check my [Updating Schedule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/profile)


	3. A Gun At 5, Death At 8, A Knife At 13, A Family At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a makeover and a ребенок паук... Will he be able to bring her out of her shell? Also, who is Harley? And is Tony really Irondad(TM)?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I did it! I got it out. You're welcome Chloe, my angel. Best person ever... I'm sorry you had to wait so long love! I love you though, kisses. 
> 
> Also massive thanks to [sarahg625](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahG625) for betaing this chapter, as my usual beta wasn't available! Gem, truly.

She was a murderer. An assassin from a young age, raised in the red room by psychopaths. 

“Again. Again. Again.” The high shrill of  _ her _ voice played in her head every waking moment. The ache of her feet after dancing for hours. The soreness of her scalp after being twisted and pulled into a perfect bun. The chafing on her legs from her cream coloured stockings. 

The weight of a gun in her hand at the tender age of 5. The twist of a knife into a person at the age of 13. The sound of dead weight hitting the floor after a particularly bad sparring match at the age of 8. 

The bruises on her face from messing up a mission at the age of 14. The bruises on her hips from messing up a mission at 16. The bruises on her neck from messing up a mission at 18. The bruises left in her mind from the trauma she suffered, that she never wanted to leave.

She wanted to be the perfect spy, she wanted to be the perfect assassin, she wanted to be perfect. But in the end it wasn’t enough. In the end she didn’t kill Clint, she didn’t murder Tony in his sleep, she didn’t stab Steve to death, and she’s glad she didn’t. 

But she’s never had a family, never had someone to love her. She learnt that loving and being loved was seen as weak. She learnt that the love she did receive was conditional. She learnt that it wasn’t love. It wasn’t love if she had to prove her worth, in her weight of empty bullet caskets, not love, if she had to pull herself out of the rapist’s bed after extracting information and killing them, not love, if they didn’t give a damn if she lived or died, if not for her abilities. 

So when she moved into the tower she was apprehensive.  She knew everyone’d had a rough past. She saw it in the way Bruce flinched when he got angry, how Tony didn’t like to be handed things, how Clint lived in the vents, how Peter was protective of those he cared about, how Steve clung to Bucky like a lifeboat, how Bucky put up three barriers of protection between himself and Steve, how Sam didn’t like talking about his past. 

She saw herself in them and she didn’t like it. Didn’t like that she saw her own failings in others. It was scary being a part of this new family, she understood their love was conditional, that it came with a price, no matter what they said. She just hadn’t worked out what the price was yet. 

Natasha also couldn't understand why Tony let her near his kid, well the spiderkid. She was an assassin, wasn’t he scared for the kid? She could kill him and make it look like an accident, as if anyone would believe it and not like she would, but the point is that she could. 

It was just so difficult living in the tower with people who genuinely wanted to know her and seemed to care about her. How was she supposed to learn how to interact with people without an ulterior motive. Her people skills came from seducing men into giving out company secrets, befriending women to give out secrets about their mob boss boyfriends and killing them when they were of no assistance. Now she was expected to act like a normal person, no one ever said anything, which they should, she thought, but she could tell people were uncomfortable with her here. 

They never gave out weird vibes or said anything, hell even their body language was normal and she was a superspy shouldn’t she be able to tell these things? She should be able to tell when people didn’t like her, when they were uncomfortable and when they got too comfortable by a twitch in their eye. Why couldn’t she just tell? 

They seemed comfortable and her hunch had never failed her before, but why were they?

She decided she couldn’t keep pondering on this all day and left her room. She liked her room, it was bright and colourful with rainbow quilts and stuffed animals. It helped remind her that she wasn’t still in the Red Room. They would’ve had her head for this. They didn’t let her do anything that wasn’t ‘beneficial to her mission’. 

Honestly that’s why she never let anyone into her room, everyone just assumed it was because she was secretive or that she had knives everywhere, which was valid. She kept one under her pillow and even when she was naked, she had at least 3 different weapons hidden in her hair. It was just how she was raised.

She walked down the silent hallway of her floor, keeping her footfall light enough so that not even Bucky could pick it up, had he been at the end of the hall. She walked down the hall, her thoughts distracted. She’d never had distracted thoughts in the Red Room, she had a single focus. One slip up could get you killed and honestly she didn’t want to be dead. She liked her life, she thought it was good, until it wasn’t. 

She was so distracted she didn’t notice someone entering her floor, until something bumped into her,  _ hard.  _

“I’m so sorry Ms Black Widow, please don’t hurt me. I know I’m not supposed to be up here. I’m really sorry, don’t poke me with one of your pointy knives. Sorry, I’ll go.” He whimpered out.

She immediately felt guilty, well more guilty than she already had.

“Sorry ребенок паук, that’s on me. How can I help you?” Her tone was kind and Peter didn’t look too confused or scared anymore. 

“That’s ok мама паук, can I call you that?” He looked less unsure of himself.

“Sure. Anyway, what brings you to my humble abode?” She was trying to be more kind and well, she could be. Maybe soon it wouldn’t be such a challenge, only monsters had trouble with normal communication. She brushed the thought aside.

“Well I thought that, well maybe, well. Since you’re like a spy and stuff. You’d know,” He seemed hesitant to ask. Was it sparring? He was actually pretty good at that, finally some decent competition, so what came out of his mouth next shocked her.

“Do you think maybe you could givemeamakeoverorsomethinglikethat?” The last part was mumbled out.

“Pardon?” She asked, slightly shocked.

“Um, so you’re like good at, um, makeovers for going undercover and stuff?” He managed to gulp out.

She nodded slowly, “So you’re good with makeup and fashion and stuff?”

She wasn’t the best but she knew her stuff, she nodded again. 

“Well I was thinking, if you’re not too busy, you don’t have to. Um, if you could maybe help me with it?”

To her credit, she did remember how to temper her surprise down. “Sure ребенок паук. Wanna do it today?”   
  


“Uh, sure yeah. Whenever’s cool.” He managed to stammer out.

“Ok let’s go.” She turned on her heel, going back to her bedroom.

“Um, weren’t you going somewhere?” He called out from behind her. 

“Well I’m gonna need my keys now. We’re going shopping.”

“Um, okay? Yeah. Sure.” Peter stumbled out.

It took them only a few minutes to get her keys and back down to Natasha’s car.

“So what were you thinking of doing?” They were driving down the highway, Natasha looking as flawless and scary as always. 

“Um,” Peter seemed to be extremely nervous, not answering the question.

“ребенок паук, it’s ok. Just tell me, we’ve got Stark’s card.” She grinned evilly, producing the car from seemingly nowhere to between her fingers, flicking it. 

“Um, y’know. Maybe a few skirts or a crop top. Some makeup, nail stuff. That sort of thing?” His voice was so quiet, that had Natasha not been listening out for it, she may have missed it. 

Instead of making a big deal out of it, or comforting him about feeling bad. She could kind of see why he was hesitant about it, she just nodded and smiled.

“Good taste kid, any particular style or colour?” 

“Um, maybe red or green?”

She thought about it for a moment before humming her agreement, “You’d look good in green.”

The rest of the car ride was silent, save for the radio playing some pop song. It wasn’t uncomfortable but Peter was a bit nervous, still having no idea where Natasha was taking him. They arrived outside of a massive shopping centre, the car park full and the inside bustling with people. Getting out of the car, Peter clings to Natasha, a little overwhelmed.

“ _ You good baby spider? _ ” She asks in Russian, knowing that the boy can understand her.

“ _ Yeah, just a little overwhelming. _ ” She nods understandingly, the fact he spoke back in Russian kind of made her feel ok about her past. She’d always associated her Russian with being a spy, an assassin, but Peter made it feel ok. She wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was because he could speak it and was normalising it or that she was making memories of it apart from her Red Room days.

The shopping centre was unnecessarily loud if Peter’s grumbles were anything to go by, although he was adding to the already loud noise. 

“Ok first stop is.” Natasha looked at the map before deciding on some makeup shop Peter had never heard of before and walking off. Peter didn’t even notice that she wasn’t next to him anymore until someone behind him cleared their throat, signalling for him to  _ hurry up. _ He looked up startled before nodding a quick apology and running off after Natasha. 

The rest of the shopping trip was Peter being dragged from store to store, most of which he didn’t get the names of, just too excited to be in them, instead of gazing in longingly. He felt bad using Mr Stark’s credit card, but a quick text to Pepper and he felt fine about it. The man had more money than he could spend in twelve lifetimes. Probably more. 

He particularly liked the makeup store where a guy, only a few years older than him had done his makeup. The man himself had a flawless, pink, cloud makeup look on his cheeks and fake lashes, his outfit just a white shirt with the first few buttons undone and wearing a pair of black skinny jeans. Peter wanted to look like that. 

The makeup artist was a really good conversationalist and he found out that he was only two years older than him, moving from Rose Hill and doing college in the ‘big city’. This was just his part time job, but he really liked it. His name was Harley and Peter got his number while Natasha wasn’t looking, she was. Peter left his chair considerably more confident and happy than when he first arrived, getting the same clouds done in red and gold (like the Iron Man gear, but don’t tell Mr Stark). Natasha also got hers done, but it was more toned down, just a smokey eye and some blush, with a red lip. 

She looked fantastic and so did he, he actually gave the makeup artist a hug, which he reciprocated with a smile and a “call me.” Natasha paid for the makeup and they left. Afterwards they got their nails done, Peter’s matching his makeup and kept tapping them. 

“Stop you’ll ruin them.”

“Sorry.”

In the end he left with a whole bunch of makeup products and a new wardrobe it seemed. In the bathrooms he’d changed into a gold and black crop top, with the words ‘baddest b*tch’ on them. He had a theme, he thought excitedly and also put on his new white, high waisted skater skirt. Checking his curls were still super curly, they were, he left the bathroom to show Natasha, who looked like a proud mother.

“Don’t go crying now, ruin your makeup мама паук.”

“How dare you suggest such a thing ребенок паук.”

“The crying, or the ruined makeup?” He retorted cheekily.

“Both.” She death-glared him, it only lasted a second before they both burst out laughing. 

They swung around the makeup store once more before leaving, just to fluster Harley, Natasha’s idea, and it worked. Not that Mr Stark had to know about  _ that _ part of the trip. As they got back into the car to drive back to the tower, Peter was getting increasingly nervous. What if Mr Stark didn’t like it? What if he’d wasted his money? What if… Before he could think of the next worst case scenario, Natasha cut in. 

“You’re tapping.” She stated the obvious.

“Oh sorry,” Peter quickly spoke, retracting his hand from the dash, not even noticing his nervous tapping. 

“It’s fine, seriously, calm down. You do realise he’s just gonna be like shocked for a second, ignore any of your things about the money spent and start talking about how to chase off the boys with the Iron Man suit.”

Low and behold, she was right, down to a tee. He did threaten to scare off boys with his suit and had his proud dad moment of ‘I’ll always love you’. Natasha felt like she was intruding on an intimate and private scene until Harley came up. Peter accidentally let it slip when talking about his makeup. Aye ребенок паук. 

“Who’s this Harley?” His face was suspicious. “In college? I don’t think so young man.” 

He was about to launch into a long spiel about it when Peter interrupted.

“And that is my cue to leave.” He gave them both awkward finger guns before retreating, walking backwards. “It’s been nice knowing you Natasha. Mr  _ Stank _ .”

He then rushed off, presumably to text Harley.

Tony just pinched his forehead, grabbing a drink and muttering about how this kid was  _ going to be the death of him.  _ He sounded like a dad and Natasha let him know, to which he returned a middle finger and a sarcastic smile, not even bothering to dignify it with a response (they both knew it was true).

He motioned for her to take a seat and she nodded gratefully to him doing so as her mind was whirling. Was he going to tell her to stay away from Peter? She wouldn't be surprised and she couldn't blame him. Millions of thoughts rushed through her mind, only to be disrupted by Tony clearing his throat and offering her a drink, which she took a swig of and then placed it on the table where it lay forgotten for the rest of the conversation.

Once again Peter had disappeared and Tony had started noticing a pattern. Peter got them comfortable, did all the hard work and then disappeared. He left Tony to put them back together, which he honestly didn’t mind, it was a comfort to know that he was trusted and needed. Except this time he wasn’t going to gain a boyfriend, a new friend? A real one? He hoped so.

“So how was the shopping trip with Peter?” He asked, smiling warmly.

“Um, you’re not mad?” Her natural abilities or default mode as she called it, to keep her face a blank mask had months gone when not on missions. It was really difficult, but after a while she realised she’d done it without help, hanging with Peter also helped. Her tone was confused as she tried to work out what was going on in the mind of the genius. 

“Why would I be?” He furrowed his brows, he knew what she was  _ really _ asking. ‘You’re ok with Peter hanging out with an ex-assassin, who carried 3,000 knives on her at all times?’

“Because, y’know,” She started, gesturing to herself. “I’m… me?”

Her tone was incredulous, really not understanding Tony’s thought process. 

“Yeah, someone who would kick anyone’s arse who tried to hurt or make fun of Peter. You’re  _ almost _ as protective as I am.” He emphasised the almost, knowing he was the ‘literal definition of helicopter parent Mr Stark’, according to Peter. He knew it might be annoying but at least Peter knew he cared, he couldn't say the same for his dad. Hell, his dad had told him on multiple occasions that he didn’t. 

She gave him a more genuine smile this time around. “Yeah, I guess I am. Anyone who even thought of hurting ребенок паук, would have hell to pay.”

Tony smiled, seeming satisfied with that answer. He also liked the nickname his kid had earned, ‘baby spider’. Trust Peter of all people to get an ex-assassin falling for his charms. He laughed out loud at his thought process and from the looks of the smile Natasha sent him, she was thinking the same thing. 

“You know I forgive you, right?” She didn’t have to ask what he was talking about.

“But you shouldn’t. I knew it was wrong, yet I still did it.” She almost pleaded, not understanding how she could be forgiven with nothing in return. That just wasn’t how the world worked, for god’s sakes. 

“Let me ask you, did you leave after you figured out it was wrong?” He asked.

“Um, well. Not straight away, but I did.” She sounded so unsure of herself. 

“Why?”

“Well, because. It wasn’t right, not what they were doing. I was spying and murdering people who I didn’t know because someone told me to. That’s fucked up.”

Tony nodded his agreement, taking a sip from his whiskey, not interrupting.

“Yeah, and well. Even though I know it can’t make up for it and nor do I expect your forgiveness. I really am sorry.”

“And like we discussed earlier, you’ve already been forgiven.” His voice was soothing, velvety and trustworthy, like a spoon of not-too-sweet caramel. The way it dissolved on your tongue, had a way of making you relax. He had that effect on people.

This time it was her turn to ask the question. “Why?” Her voice was so broken.

“Because, Tash. You were  _ raised _ there, as far as you were concerned, that was the right thing. You didn’t care, because you didn’t know you should. It’s like asking someone to speak another language if they hadn’t learnt it as a kid. Not fair, how were you supposed to know what the rules of the language are? The grammar and pronunciation? So how can  _ I  _ expect you to know any better, if you weren’t taught that. I’m not saying this to be high and mighty, ‘look at me, I’m so good’. I’m not. Hell, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I didn’t know what I was doing, I killed loads of people, I was complacent in a system that wreaked havoc and ruin into people’s lives. 

“Besides it’s as you said, we can’t change what we’ve done in the past, only work to change and improve ourselves. Change our future actions and how we respond to situations. We must balance the red on our ledger, do good. That’s why you became an Avenger isn’t it?” She had a confused look on her face. “Yes Miss superspy, I did hear the conversations, plural, you’ve had with Buck. Ok, you’re a massive softie. _ Please don’t kill me _ . But what you did for Peter today was amazing, better than I could’ve done. Please understand, we can’t change our actions in the past, but we can alter them in the future. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I want to be better and I’ve seen the change in you.”

“How do you deal with the nightmares?” Her voice was so small, that had Tony not been looking directly at her when she said it, he would not have noticed it at all.

His heart broke at her tone, he knew what it was like, hell he was still going through it. His tone was gentle but firm, a reminder to her. “Don’t push us away when things get too hard, that’s when you’ll need us most. When your nightmares get too much, when you feel like it’s all too much that’s when you can come to me. My door’s always open, literally, I never sleep.” He ignored her concerned face. “But please, know that even if I am asleep, you can always come bug me, ok? I’m here. I know what it’s like to have nightmares haunt you and I never want you to feel like that, I’m not saying I can stop it, but I will try to help you as best I can.”

His face was open, so raw that she couldn’t stop the tears before they fell.  _ Showing emotion is a sign of weakness. Crying is for babies. You’ll never be enough. He just pities you.  _

Tony grabbed both her hands, pulling them into his chest, placing a kiss on each knuckle. “Stop it.” His tone was slow, so heartbroken.

“Crying is not bad, I’ve only just unlearnt it. It will take awhile, but showing emotion is good, healthy. If I don’t have to be made of iron all the time, you don’t either. I wish you had a Rhodey, but I swear I  _ will  _ be with you every step of the way. Got it?”

Her face held so much pain, years of self-destructive behaviour and self-hatred were etched into it. She looked too tired as she slowly nodded, starting to understand.

Tony then stood up clapping his hands and all at once the spell was broken, the tension flew out of the room as he grabbed her hand. “Okay, so you in the mood for sushi or shawarma? I personally am in the mood for shawarma, but I always am.” Both of them laughed at that, recalling the many meals had after battles. 

“So could you help me with a makeover? Or is that just a Peter thing? Because his outfit looked good and I haven’t had a wardrobe change since Pepper. Wow.” Natasha blushed at the mention of Pepper. “Friday, remind me to clear Pepper’s schedule, next Friday.”

“Done sir, I’ve cleared Ms Potts schedule and informed her,” Friday’s Irish lilt came. “Ms Potts says to tell you to quote ‘stop meddling in my love life, Tony’.” 

Tony just laughed, picking back up the conversation where it had left off, with a considerably more red Natasha. Just like her lipstick, he thought cheerily. It was ok that she wasn’t talking, as Tony was doing more than enough for the both of them. Natasha had never felt more loved and accepted in her life and as she listened to Tony prattle on about one of his latest inventions, she finally understood what family was. Yeah, she felt like she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check my [Updating Schedule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/profile) and please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!


	4. (Not-So) Young Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Everyone Has Bad Days
> 
> “Oh my god, I am so sorry Peter. I fell asleep, oh god. On you. When we were supposed to go out. I’m such a bad friend.” 
> 
> “Sam. You’ll work yourself back up again.”
> 
> “Sorry.” 
> 
> “Don’t be.” 
> 
> “But I am. I ruined our plans, fell asleep on you and made you miss out on a wonderful day.”
> 
> “You were tired and not just physically. You always take care of everyone, do you ever stop to take care of yourself? Have you ever had someone do that for you? Had anyone take care of you, not including parents. Y’know, ask about your day, know when something’s wrong, order your favourite unhealthy take out just because you’ve had a shit day?”
> 
> “Not since Riley.”
> 
> Or
> 
> Sam finally realises he has people to help him on bad days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I KNOW THIS IS NOT HOW ALL POLY RELATIONSHIPS WORK**  
> *THIS IS FANFIC*
> 
> This is late and unbeta'd, hehe. I'm really sorry! This chapter is dedicated to Max, who I know is currently at school, soz. Because I wrote Sam in the likeness of you (not really), and this chapter sort of got out of hand.

These days weren’t as common anymore. Days where he’d roll over and refuse to get out of bed. Days where he’d miss his morning runs, he hadn’t missed them since Steve came along. Days where it felt like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Maybe it did, maybe if he had done better it wouldn’t. 

The nights, on the other hand, were common. Nights he’d wake up in a cold sweat, where the same nightmare plagued him. Nights where he didn’t get much sleep instead opting to punch things in the gym. Nights where it felt like he’d never be able to sleep again. He deserved it, all of it. He deserved to feel this way,  _ he had failed. _ No, he couldn’t have done anything, at least that what he was told.

Yeah, if he couldn’t do anything about Riley that day, then why did he feel so goddamn guilty?  _ Because you’re useless,  _ his mind supplied.  _ You let him die, you watched him die. It should have been you hit by that RPG.  _ He knows that. He knows that he deserved to die, not Riley. 

_ Oh yeah, such healthy thoughts, _ the therapist side of his mind scolded.  _ But you’re not a therapist?  _ The other half supplied and  _ oh god _ he was talking to himself. Riley would laugh. He always did like a good joke and Sam’s constant existential crisis. Said they made his day.

Alone in his room, Sam choked out a sobbed laugh, looking around as if searching for someone. He checked his clock, 6:43. Steve would be knocking at his door any minute now to remind him about their run. As if on a timer, a knock came through the door. 

“Sam, you almost ready? Time for our run.” Steve’s voice filtered through the door. 

“Yeah, can you just grab me some of my muesli bars, I’ll be out in a second. My alarm didn’t go off.” He tried as hard as he could to keep his voice steady, talking already taking so much energy. Of course that was a lie, he’d heard his alarm, but he really didn’t want to go.

“Already got them.” He cursed himself for having such good friends. “It’s fine, take all the time you need.” 

If Steve was confused or concerned he didn’t show it. Usually Sam was the one pulling him out his boyfriend’s arms, but you know, trauma’s a bitch.

“Be out in just a minute.” He forewent his normal shave, figuring he could just do it once he got back to the tower and pulled out whatever exercise clothing he’d worn the day before from his pile of washing. It turned out just to be a stretchy grey t-shirt and a pair of well worn shorts. Thank god for that.

“I’m ready.” He popped out of the room, throwing on a fake grin for Steve’s sake. His insides turned as he realised he’d forgotten something. 

“Actually.” He stuck out a hand with his pointer finger up, before rushing back into his room and rustling around. He was panicked for a moment, before finding the dogtags sitting on the book he’d been reading the night prior. 

Sam had to take them off the night before to give them a polish and leave them to dry. He  _ always _ kept Riley’s dog tags in perfect condition. Riley’s family had insisted he have them and Sam had almost cried tears of joy, amongst the tears of pain running down his face. Riley’s family was like his second family and it hurt him so much when Riley had passed. 

He didn’t talk with them at the funeral, blaming himself even though they had done this thousands of times before. It was Riley’s mum who’d come over and Sam had braced himself for the shitstorm about to happen, when she just hugged him. 

“I’m sorry Sam.” She’d whispered slipping the dog tags around his neck.

He’d pulled back, trying to give her back the dog tags and apologising profusely. It was like a dam of self-hatred and shame had opened up and he couldn’t do much to stop it. He’d just hugged Riley's mum who’d hugged him tighter and reassured him that he was still family. 

He’d left that day with so much self-loathing that he’d slept for almost a week. Not getting up to do anything unless it was eating and he only did that on the odd occasion. He only decided to get his act together when he was asked back to the Air Force. 

He of course said yes, just because Riley was gone, didn’t mean he had to be. He had to do  _ something _ with his life, he couldn’t spend the rest of it on this shifty couch, thinking about the  _ what ifs?  _ So he went back, his only request was that he only do solo missions. He didn’t think he could handle another partner. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts, slipping on the dog tags, that he knew for a fact Steve and Bucky still wore. Bucky wore Steve’s, he’d gotten them when he’d gotten back from Hydra. He kept them during his time in Wakanda, despite not remembering who Steve was to him, only that he was important. Sam was often envious of their relationship, wanting what they had for himself, but it would never happen. Riley had been the only one who wanted to be around him. 

“Everything all right?” Steve asked, trying hard to mask his concern as Sam walked out. 

Sam gave a short nod and a half-smiled, that was very obviously forced. “Yeah, man. Let’s go.”

Steve just nodded and started walking, knowing that sometimes bad days happen and you didn’t want to talk about it. Sometimes it was easier to ignore it until they were ready. He knows his therapist would disagree to a certain degree and so would Sam, but considering he was dealing with Sam, he didn’t exactly know what to do. Usually Sam would give him advice and he was stuck. Instead he opted to nod along, pretending everything was a-okay, he would keep an eye out for Sam, after all Buck really liked him, he owed a lot to him.

They got to the park they ran at, near Sam’s old place in record time, not really exchanging words and Sam walking at a much faster pace than usual. If Steve found it odd, he once again kept his mouth shut. Their usual bicker was shared as they ran and upon Steve lapping him, he still called, “On your left.” Something that Sam was glad to hear, the normalcy comforting. 

Their run ended just over an hour later, longer than it usually would be, but Sam couldn’t seem to stop. By the time they finished, they were sweating and they walked back to the tower again in silence, they seemed to do that a lot today.

Steve wanted to invite Sam to eat breakfast with him and Bucky like usual but Sam declined before he could even ask the question and he thought it better to leave it be, he hoped Sam knew the offer was always there even unsaid.

Steve pulled Sam into a long hug, trying to silently convey every emotion he was thinking, every thought flying through his head, the love and gratefulness he felt towards the smaller man. He only let go once Sam pulled away, to which he responded with another quick hug and a “See you.”

Sam once again was left alone with his thoughts, feeling almost physically dragged down by them as he walked to his room. He flopped on his bed, fully prepared to sleep the rest of the day despite not having changed or showered. He knew that was a bad sign, but he really didn’t give a shit. Swearing in his thoughts now? He was screwed.

“Mr Wilson,” Friday’s voice rang out through the room, startling him. “Sorry for scaring you, but you told me to inform you when Mr Parker had arrived.”

He mentally cursed himself having forgotten the date. “You also told me that this was non-negotiable, and no matter what to let you see the kid.” He cursed again, remembering when he set that invite up, using the protocol so Avengers work couldn’t get him out of it. Guess it backfired, huh.

“Um, tell him I’ll be down in half an hour, I just need to take a shower after my run.” Sam stuttered out.

“Very well sir, he says to tell you to ‘take all the time you need.’” Friday’s voice comes through again.

“Thank you Fri.” 

Friday doesn’t respond after that, so he assumes that he’s free to go shower now and shave and maybe cry, but he doesn’t think about the last point. The walk to the shower seemed like it took hours, in reality it was only a few long steps, but his reality had been warped. He couldn’t tell you that date or time or even where he was. 

When he thought about it, it was like he expected to be back in the base with Riley, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. The motions of washing himself were almost mechanical, muscle memory, and he was wrapping a towel around himself before even noticing that he’d stepped into the hot spray. He quickly brushed his teeth, glad that it was an activity that would take up no brain power. He decided to once again forgo his usual shave even though he knew that was the start of bad habits. 

He, not for the first time, was glad that all his clothing was in blacks, whites and greys. It made it easier to just throw something on and not look like he was terrible with clothing. I mean, he was, but it didn’t need to look like he never tried to put any effort, the media would have a field trip, for what he wasn't sure. He just didn’t see the need to get worked up over an outfit, but considering he just thanked god for the fact all his clothing was white, black or grey, maybe he was also part of the problem.

Getting changed seemed to take even longer than usual, trying to avoid staring at any of the scarring on his body for too long while also trying to put clothing on said body. It was a bit of a challenge, but he made do. He checked the time on his phone, he’d spent 27 minutes getting ready, although he knew Peter wouldn’t mind if he was late -- and even if he did, wouldn’t say anything, polite kid -- he didn’t want to be rude, so he started downstairs. 

Downstairs he was greeted with a very excited Peter, almost bouncing in his seat, wearing a grin to rival the sun. Sam immediately felt bad, he was obviously so excited and Sam was going to ruin this for him with his bad mood, not intentionally, never intentionally, but he just couldn’t muster up the excitement necessary for their day out, let alone to match the young spider’s.

“Hi Mr Wilson.” His face was split in a grin, which promptly turned to worry when he saw Sam’s face. “Hey, come sit.”

He pat the seat cushion next to him, waving over an exhausted Sam. Sam gratefully slumped into the couch, almost instinctively curling into himself, until he seemed to remember where he was, straightening his posture and fixing on a grin. That was until Peter softly asked, “Can I have a hug?” His voice was so small, as if unsure whether Sam would accept or not.

He moved closer to the boy in lieu of an answer and felt a pair of skinny arms wrap around him, holding him tightly. Before he even knew what was happening, he was slumping in the spiderboy’s grip and out like a light. 

He was awoken a few hours later to the faint sound of lightsabers coming from the tv and the low talking between a body he was half lying on and someone next to the couch. He blinked open his eyes, feeling his hand clutched around a warm piece of metal and unsure as to where he was. He tensed as he realised he was in Peter’s lap and that Tony was watching the two. 

He sat up quickly, startling Tony while Peter just stayed calm, probably hearing his breathing change as soon as he woke. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry Peter.” Sam starts hyperventilating, spitting out apologies as fast as his mouth would let him. “I fell asleep, oh god. On you. When we were supposed to go out. I’m such a bad friend.” 

His words were slurred by this point and he knew neither could understand what he was saying. He vaguely recognised Tony leaving the room with a small nod, as his vision blurred, losing too much oxygen.

In the back of his mind he could hear Peter talking, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was being said. Luckily it didn’t look like Peter was going to quiz him on it after, he felt a steady tapping on his arm, which he tried to match his breath to, slowing his breath down and helping him calm down. 

The moment his breathing stabilised, the apologies started back up.

“Sam.” Peter’s voice was stern. “You’ll work yourself back up again.”

When did this boy from Queens grow up? Did he miss that? Why did he know how to deal with a grown man having a panic attack? He decided not to ponder on it. At least for now, anyway. 

“Sorry.” Sam winced at how small his voice was.

“Don’t be.” His voice was comforting, but the guilt was getting worse.

“But I am.” He protested, pulling himself out of Peter’s grip, which he wasn’t aware he was still in, and throwing his hands up. “I ruined our plans,  _ fell asleep _ on you and made you miss out on a wonderful day.”

Peter shook his head, “You were tired and not just physically. You always take care of everyone, do you ever stop to take care of yourself? Have you ever had someone do that for you? Had anyone take care of you, not including parents. Y’know, ask about your day, know when something’s wrong, order your favourite unhealthy take out just because you’ve had a shit day?”

Sam shook his head, realising that  _ no, _ since Riley he hadn’t.

“Not since Riley.” His voice was weak from disuse and his cheeks were blotchy with tears and red stains.

Peter nodded understandingly, “After Ben died, I wasn’t sure how I was going to go on. It doesn’t ever stop hurting, but as time passes it hurts less.”

“But you don’t understand, I saw him die, saw him shot in the sky.” By this time Sam’s voice had raised and another bout of tears, a bout of which Sam missed, were falling down his face.

Peter’s voice was soft, “You’re right, I don’t understand. Those are your experiences, but I had a similar one.” 

Sam internally scoffed, this kid was 15, what could he have seen?

“My uncle, Ben?” He prompted softly as Sam nodded, remembering Peter’s stories. “He was shot by a gang of robbers, I could have done something. Instead I froze, I watched him die in my arms.”

Sam gasped as he imagined a 13 year old Peter Parker, sobbing over his uncle’s body. Walking home with blood stained clothing, blaming himself.

“There are days where I can’t do anything. But you can’t blame yourself for them.” Sam sniffled, nodding.

“M’kay.” 

“I know it’s not going to get better straight away and you probably won’t ever stop blaming yourself. But you have to forgive yourself, I have no doubt he already has.” Peter reached out to give him another hug.

Sam gratefully returned it, confused. “How are you so good at this?”

Peter cracked a smile, one that Sam was happy- no overjoyed to see, he never wanted to be the cause of the boy’s unhappiness.

“You try living with Tony’s self-loathing arse. The man gets off on blaming himself for things that aren’t his fault.” They both laughed at that, when another unexpected voice cut through the room.

“Grounded, Pete. That’s what you are, grounded! Getting off on it,” He muttered the last bit. “Also, the first time you call me Tony, it’s talking about what a self-deprecating, son-of-a-bitch I am?”

“Oh I call you Tony behind your back all the time.” His smile was gleeful, if not a tad evil.

Tony just sighed, “Kids these days.”

They all laughed at that, shaking off the heavy tension in the room. Sam seemed more relaxed, not apologising anymore and laughing at the banter between Tony and Peter. It felt like he could stay like this forever, he’d like that. 

He shook the thoughts out of his head, Peter would never see him as a brother figure, Tony would never see him as more than a friend. Whoa, where did those thoughts come from? Did he like Tony?

He thought back to all the bantering and quick touches and little things, like buying the brand of cereal he liked or spending extra time on his Falcon gear, if Sam had asked. Ugh, he couldn’t think those thoughts, Tony was dating someone, wasn’t he? But he couldn’t work out who, he seemed to flirt with Clint a lot, but lab time with Bruce was becoming more often, and why did he know this? But he also really liked Bucky and Steve. God his life was confusing.

“Sam? Sam? You there bud?” Sam thinks he saw Tony cringe at his word choice of ‘bud’, but he couldn’t be sure. For all he knew it was his mind just making up the things he wanted to see.

“Where’s Peter?” Sam looked around the room genuinely confused, not realising he’d left.

Tony chuckled, “He’s over there  _ talking to his boyfriend. _ ” He said the last bit loud enough so Peter could hear it, pointing at the boy, as if he wasn’t listening in on their competition.

“His excuse was, you look like you want to quote, ‘jump his bones’. Thanks.” The last bit was sarcastic and Sam turned red, trying to stammer out a response. 

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Peter’s voice came after a beat of silence and Sam jumped having forgotten he was there.

Tony was just as red as Sam imagined he was, scratching the back of his neck. “Wanna talk about him?” His tone was soft and eyes full of understanding.

“His name was Riley and I never thought there’d be another. He was good and kind and dealt with all my shit.” Sam chuckled at that. “He was never too far behind, in fact he often led the charge, full of confidence and excitement. He was the optimist, I was the cynicist. We balanced each other out and there was no one I trusted more flying next to. He was shot down by an RPG, it was a standard flight, one we’d performed hundreds of times before, nothing was supposed to happen.”

His voice got heavy and almost pleading, as if asking him to come back. “Nothing. One moment we were flying, the next he’d gone down like a, like a, like a rock in a pond. There was nothing I could do as I watched him fall from the sky.”

He was in tears again, shaking as the sobs racked his body and he held the dogtags tight in his fist. Tony shifted over, not saying anything and wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m sorry Sam, but it wasn’t your fault. I know it feels like it, I know it does. It felt the same for me, and I know your head’s not gonna change it’s opinion just because of an old man. But please, if you ever feel like this, come to the lab. We don’t even need to talk, I have an old couch in there. You can just crash, okay?”

Sam nodded slowly, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky, until he remembered something. “What was it Peter said about wanting to ‘jump my bones’?” He put the last part in quotation marks, holding the symbol up in the air.

Tony could barely stutter out an answer, “Maybe we can discuss that tomorrow?”

So they spent the whole night lying on the couch, watching whatever crummy movie was on free to air (Tony didn’t even know he still had that, although it made sense). Eventually Bruce and Clint came to join them, looking for their boyfriend and cooing at the sight in front of them. Steve and Bucky also came up, Natasha following along minutes later and Peter jumping over the back of the couch and yelling, scaring everyone save for Natasha.

Tony and Sam have decided not to divulge what was said the next morning, only choosing to share that 3 boyfriends is better than 2. Peter gave Sam the shovel talk, almost referring to Mr Stark as ‘dad’ multiple times, and blushing red when he did so, but if you ask, nothing of the sort happened.

He didn’t get better straight away and Riley’s death would likely haunt him for the rest of his life, but as long he had people around who cared for him, it would be ok. Even the bad days weren’t as bad anymore, and it helped that whenever someone saw him lying on Tony’s couch, trading insults with the genius, they didn’t say anything. After all, it was (not-so) young love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments are fuel for my soul. So please feed me!
> 
> [Updating Schedule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/profile) (not always accurate)


	5. The 'We Love Tony Club'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um, yes?” 
> 
> “Hi it’s Peter.” 
> 
> “Spiderman? Holy shit, you’re a kid. Holy shit, you’re Stark’s kid. He’s recruiting child soldiers?”
> 
> “I’m not Mr Stark’s kid. Plus, I would’ve kept doing the whole Spider-Man thing anyway, he just made it safer for me.”
> 
> “Ok. So what are you doing at my door?”
> 
> “Oh, Mr White Wolf, Sergeant Barnes, Sir.”
> 
> “You can call me Bucky.” 
> 
> “You sure Mr Barnes?” 
> 
> “M’not Mr Barnes, it’s Barnes-Rogers.” 
> 
> “When did y’all get married?”
> 
> “The summer before I shipped out, the little runt proposed and I’m sure he has plans to try again soon.”
> 
> “Ok Mr Barnes-Rogers.”
> 
> “Bucky.” 
> 
> “Ok Mr Bucky. Anyway, I came up because Mr Captain America, Sir, said that he was going out for the day and mentioned that you might need company and I haven’t actually properly introduced myself, so I was like what the hell, oops do you not like swearing, I know Mr Steve’s like that. So I came to hang out with you, only if you want though.” 
> 
> “Of course kid, gets a bit lonely up here, with only Mr Steve for company, and I’m fine with swearing, just don’t tell your dad.”
> 
> “Not my dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **MENTIONS WEIGHT IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE, JUST SKIP THE PARAGRAPH WHERE STEVE IS FIGHTING THE sexist homophobe**
> 
> Yo, guess who hasn't updated in how long??? And I am so sorry, this is unbeta'd and I haven't edited it yet, but please take my humble offerings! This is dedicated to my lovely girlfriend Chloe who has been bugging me to it updated and Loki, my wonderful guy friend who I'd 'make out with if given the chance' and finally Max, who is Max so they deserve it!
> 
> Also I headcanon Peter as being gender non-conforming and preferring the use of Mx sometimes, please bear with me!

He doesn’t like talking about life before, before what, he doesn’t know. Before the war? Before the Winter Soldier? Before he moved into the tower? Before his life fell to shit? His life had always been shit, it had just gotten shitter when he was dragged from the snow. How he fell asleep not expecting to wake up, resigned to his fate. Hearing footprints behind his broken body and hoping with every ounce that Steve had come before blacking out.

It hadn’t been and what had occurred after was 70 years of torture and psychological horror that even the worst of the worst couldn’t dream up. If he’d been good and finished his mission early, the most he expected was a cold dinner. If something had gone wrong, he doesn’t bear to think about it. 

His court appointed therapist’s files will tell you all about it, how his days were spent hoping for waterboarding and a broken arm because what was worse, was truly worse. He was pretty sure if not for the serum his attempts to ‘land wrong’ would have worked, but alas they just picked him up and beat him senseless, only stopping at the brink of death, though he wished they wouldn’t. Fantasies of getting that final blow in, finally getting out of this nightmare, not that the Asset dreamt. Daydreams were punished, not like that stopped him. 

Although he was constantly wiped, his body had remembered the punishment inflicted even when his mind didn’t. He guessed he was just programmed like that. The memories were really hazy, everytime he tried to remember he’d get a migraine, have to lie down. His memories from between the wipings were always blurry, the only parts that weren’t were the killings themself.

The life draining out of someone’s eyes, the blood flowing from a wound or watching a person to suffocate. What’s worse was that some messed up part of his brain had enjoyed it, had enjoyed getting out his anger and inflicting pain, enjoyed the power that came with it. But most of the time his rational brain would get in the way, make him feel like throwing up or crying or god forbid, saving the person, not that he ever did. He had more self preservation than that, besides they’d fucked with his mind a little too well.

Integrating back into society was hard, probably the hardest thing he’d ever done, not even leaving Stevie behind was that bad and that was hell. 

Him and Stevie had been best friends since real young when James had pulled him out of a fight with an extremely sexist homophobe, neither of which Stevie put up with. He was 13 at the time, fighting in a back alley with a 16 year old twice his size. He was barely 4’9’’, 50 pounds sopping wet, facing a 6’2’’, 120 pound giant, not much for self-preservation. Stevie never had been, he remembers fondly.

“Steven Grant Rogers.” James remembers him, sticking out a hand, massive grin on his face looking 3 years younger than he should have. 

“James Buchanan Barnes.” He replied, a little disconcerted by this kid’s enthusiasm. 

“Hmm, James Buchanan, sounds like the name of a pirate, arr.” He yelled, bursting with joy as James ushered him down the street, wanting to get away from the guy he’d just swung at. 

“It’s a bit long though, and I don’t think James suits you. How about,” he pondered for a moment. “Jem?”

His eyes were alight as he said it, before stopping and squaring James up. “Maybe not,” he wrinkled his nose. “Something short for James, Jam? No, J, eh. Buchanan, too long. Bucko, maybe, Buck, sounds too much like a deer, oh I know. Bucky. Your name is Bucky and we’re gonna be best friends.”

James had an overwhelming urge to protect this kid and all that was good in the world. “How old are you kid? Isn’t your ma gonna be worried?” He gestured to the kids split lip and black eye, cursing himself for not asking earlier.

“Excuse you, I’m 13 almost 14. I’m a grown up and I don’t need some jerk telling me what to do.”

“Alright punk.”

There had been so many nicknames thrown about that day, so many emotions and memories and James can safely say it was the best day of his life, well after Stevie’s proposal. In all honesty he should have expected it, the little punk getting down on one knee and asking in no clearer terms to be his. They both knew they could never actually get married, but the ring was nice all the same. 

Bucky had been sitting on the couch one night, radio on and his feet up from a long day at the docks. Stevie’d had a good day, he was well enough to paint and sold a few of his works on the street corner. He also managed to get some odd jobs down at the busier-than-usual market. Stevie was cooking, albeit not very well as some song played from the kitchen, him dancing around with a frilly apron on and beaming. 

Bucky had turned the radio up, ready to hear the evening news and when he turned around Stevie was on one knee, box in hands and stars in his eyes.

“Marry me Jem?” He hadn’t called Bucky that for a very long time. 

“Okay Stevie, you little punk.”

“Jerk.”

He’d told the guys in the army that he had a girl back home, Steph with blonde hair and the bluest eyes, childhood sweethearts. When Steve had arrived, he weaved tales about a Gemma with brown hair and most beautiful cheekbones. It didn’t take long for the Commandos to put two and two together, with the tent sharing and whatnot. Luckily they all supported the gays on a matter of principle, Hitler wanted them dead so it stood. 

70 years later and Stevie still wore his ring around on a chain, something the team hadn’t known about and it was only recently they’d picked back up their relationship again, although James was sure Stevie had plans to propose again soon.

Even with Stevie always by his side, it was still hard integrating into this crazy world and he knew that he couldn’t rely on Stevie all the time for company. Plus, a lot of things were still hard for him, being called Bucky, being reminded of Hydra, even a cupboard closing too loudly made him jump. That’s why when a knock sounded on his usually ignored door, on a floor that no one ever ventured to, he jumped.

Usually Friday would alert tower residents that someone wanted access to their floor, but James still wasn’t used to it, opting not to call on Friday for things he preferred done the ‘old-fashioned’ way, not that he expected anyone to be up here.

“Um, yes?” Godammit, this was his room, why’d he have to sound so scared.

“Hi it’s Peter.” A small voice came from outside, he’d know it anywhere.

“Spiderman?” James pulled open the door. “Holy shit, you’re a kid.”

His eyes went wide as he stared up and down. “Holy shit, you’re Stark’s kid.” Suddenly everything seemed to make sense, how hadn’t he put two and two together before?

“He’s recruiting child soldiers?”

“I’m not Mr Stark’s kid.” Peter started, ignoring James’ snort. “Plus, I would’ve kept doing the whole Spider-Man thing anyway, he just made it safer for me.”

James couldn’t argue with that, having experience with feisty, thinks-he-can-take-on-the-world kids. “Ok. So what are you doing at my door?”

“Oh, Mr White Wolf, Sergeant Barnes, Sir.” Peter stuttered out, not knowing what to call him.

“You can call me Bucky.” Wait, what? Why had he just said that? He never told anyone to call him that.

“You sure Mr Barnes?” Peter had stars in his eyes.

“M’not Mr Barnes, it’s Barnes-Rogers.” He whispered the last bit, but the kid’s spider hearing picked it up.

He looked unfazed. “When did y’all get married?”

If James was surprised, he didn’t show it. He thought back. “The summer before I shipped out, the little runt proposed and I’m sure he has plans to try again soon.”

“Ok Mr Barnes-Rogers.”

He laughed, of course this kid was polite. “Bucky.” He reminded him.

“Ok Mr Bucky.” He sighed, that was the best he was going to get from this kid. “Anyway, I came up because Mr Captain America, Sir, said that he was going out for the day and mentioned that you might need company and I haven’t actually properly introduced myself, so I was like what the hell, oops do you not like swearing, I know Mr Steve’s like that.” 

He took a breath, ready to continue his rambling. “So I came to hang out with you, only if you want though.” He looked so hopeful and sure that Bucky would say no.

“Of course kid, gets a bit lonely up here, with only  _ Mr Steve _ for company,” the kid flushed red, “and I’m fine with swearing, just don’t tell your dad.”

“Not my dad.” He muttered, Bucky nodded his head.

“Sure. Steve doesn’t have a problem with it either, he just likes fucking with you guys.” Peter giggles. “So, you got anything planned for today or did you just come up here?”

“Ooh, you might want to dress in something comfortable and good for dancing.”

“Wait, what?” He asked confused, but the kid had already left the room in a pile of dust. 

He met Peter downstairs who was dressed up in peach coloured, collared dress, it was quite obviously a vintage dress and had small, almost ball shaped buttons down it’s front. His makeup was light and his smile wide.

“We’re going swing dancing! I found this really cool club downtown, and I thought you might like it, y’know because of, anyway. Yeah.” He was rambling, but stopped when he noticed Bucky was crying. “I’m sorry Mr Bucky, I didn’t mean to make you sad. We don’t have to go. Is it the dress? I’m a boy, you know. I just like pretty things. I’m sorry.”

This boy was so innocent and cute and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh through the tears.

“Mr Bucky?” He was confused, was he having a mental breakdown, Peter couldn’t be sure. But if it was, he wouldn’t be surprised, long overdue, it was.

“No kid, you look great. I don’t mind, okay? It’s just-” He didn’t know how to phrase it. “Look, everyone has done stuff to make me feel welcome, but it’s just. Everyone’s avoided the past, tried to make me forget, not wanting to trigger me. Stevie has been great, but it’s hard to remember sometimes. But you-? Well you burst into my bedroom, stuttering and blushing, like a mini superhero, declaring that we’re going out. You go and find something that you think I might enjoy from before, but there is no pressure. You’re cool with not going out and you’re always bursting with joy. Hell, the first time I met you, you complimented my metal arm. No one had done that, not even Stevie.

“It’s just nice to have a friend who isn’t trying to ‘fix me’, but is trying to make a connection. By the way, once again, I really do like your dress.”

Peter smiled, before processing what he said and getting angry. “You’re not broken Mr Bucky, you’re just a little chipped and that’s ok. I never cared too much for shiny, new things. Gives you character.” 

Bucky smiled, unbelieving of his luck. “I’m adopting you.” He announced.

“You’ll have to fight the others, they’ve said the same.” He teased back.

“I’ll do it.” He laughed, offering his arm to Peter. “Shall we go?”

“Let’s.” Peter smiled back.

“You ready to go, Mx Parker?” He usually used ‘he/him’ pronouns but it made him ridiculously happy to hear the word ‘Mx’. 

“Why thank you Happy.” He smiled back.

“Of course, is it Peter?” Happy asked carefully.

“Yup. But I do prefer ‘Mx’ at the moment, thanks for asking.” 

Happy nodded, before opening the door. “Swing 46?”

“Yup.”

They got in the car and started driving, Happy had closed the partition, leaving the soldier and child-genius to sit in silence. Why was Stark letting him hang out with his kid? He was an assassin, dangerous, he could lash out at any time. Why wasn’t Stark throwing a fit, making Pete come back? Kicking him out of the tower? He thought about it everyday. 

How was Stark still so nice after everything Bucky had done? He knows logically it’s not his fault, but still. He’s sure he wouldn't be so forgiving, Stark was truly better than the papers made him out to be. He wasn’t a playboy or a cheat, although he had heard about the polyamorous arrangement between Stark, Barton and Banner, he thinks Sam was involved as well. He’s mentioned to Stevie that he wouldn’t mind going out with the genius and Stevie agreed, whoever kissed him first won their bet. 

He was shook from his thoughts by a hand on his metal arm, which had a minimal amount of feeling. “Whoa, this is cooler than I thought!” Peter exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to touch a man’s arm without asking first?” Bucky laughed.

Peter’s eyes widened, before recognising it as a joke. “It’s a work of art. Is it made of vibranium? That’s amazing. Can it feel?” Peter had tons of questions, rambling about the science and sheer genius of it, with a spark in his eye.

“Ok kid, how about we make a deal?” Peter nodded really quickly. “Slow down, you don’t even know what it is yet. I could be making you eat live scorpions for all you know.”   
  
He laughed at the fear on Peter’s face. “I’ll let you look at it, examine it, hell even take it apart on a Saturday. I haven’t got anything on that day, Stevie goes out for a run early in the morning, not coming back until lunch. I’ve got the morning free, actually I’ve got the day free. So in the morning we can have lab time and after lunch we can go do something, sound good?”

Peter nodded, gobsmacked. “W-what are you getting out of this?”

“Well, I get Stevie off my back about making friends and I get a super cool new one, who takes me to swing clubs!”

They both couldn’t contain their smiles at that. The club wasn’t too packed and they slipped in, relatively unnoticed. No one expected the Winter Soldier to be hanging out with Tony Stark’s intern, less one wearing a dress and a face of makeup.

Neither drank, Peter being underage and Bucky not in the mood.

“So, tell me more about you and Stevie?” Peter asked.

“Jesus, you sound like the girls in that movie Stark makes us watch.” Bucky snorted into his lemonade.

“Mean Girls?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that one. So what’d you want to know?”

“How you met, the whole Barnes-Rogers thing, everything.” His eyes were wide.

“Well it started when I was 15.” He doesn’t know how long Peter and him were sitting at the bar, snacking on thick cut chips and slightly too-dry nuggets. Eventually they went back on the dance floor, Bucky spinning Peter around with practiced ease, as Peter stepped on his toes, one-too-many times. 

They were having a good time, walking back to where Happy was parked, completely absorbed in the conversation they were having until; 

_ Baby you’re like lightning in a bottle _

_ I can’t let you go now that I got it  _

_ And all I need is to be struck by your electric love _

_ Baby your electric love. _

They both startle to a stop, Peter pulling his phone out of the pockets of his dress.

Incoming Call from ( _ pretty boy _ )

Peter elected not to pick up, deciding he could deal with Harley later, but definitely not the relentless teasing from Bucky and fangirling from Harley at once. 

“Ooh, who’s pretty boy?” Bucky smirked at him as Peter’s face turned bright red.

“A boy, my boyfriend.” He corrected himself.

“Ooh, does Tony know?”

“Now who sounds like a teen girl from Mean Girls.” Peter sassed, sticking his tongue out.

The drive back to the tower was filled with relentless teasing from both parties, Bucky teasing him about ‘pretty boy’ and Peter about how whipped he was for Steve. When the tower was in sight, Peter asked the weirdest question.

“Do you like Mr Stark?”

“Of course I do Pete, he gave me a home, undid my brainwashing, fixes my arm for free and doesn’t hold a grudge. I’m forever in debt to him, so yeah I do.”

“No,” Peter looked slightly annoyed. “I mean do you  _ like _ him?”

It would have sounded like a childish question coming from anyone else, let alone this  _ kid _ , but this was different.

“U-uh. W-why do you think that?” Bucky was panicking now. “I’d never cheat on Stevie, ‘til the end of the line.” 

“I know.” Peter looked exasperated. “You do know what polyamory is, right?”

“Y-yeah. Why this question?”

“Just a hunch.” Peter thought back to Clint, Bruce and Sam. 

They didn’t exchange many words after that, the silence not awkward but overpowering. If Happy noticed something off, he didn’t comment on it. 

Bucky walked back off to his room, ready to curl up in Stevie’s arms after a long day only to find him not in bed. Instead he turns the corner to see Stevie cooking something on the stove, with what looks like a suspiciously familiar apron. He directs Bucky to sit on the couch, only saying. “Goodie, you’re already dressed right.”

A song he hadn’t heard for years was coming in through the kitchen as the smells of home wafted through their floor. A radio was sitting, playing the evening news and with a smile he went to turn it up, not surprised by what he found.

“Jem, would you do me a favour and marry me, again?”

“Of course punk.”

“Thank god jerk.” 

Bucky pulled Stevie up from where he knelt in front of him into a searing kiss, by the collar of his shirt.

As they lay in bed, holding each other, Bucky had never felt happier in his life, recalling what Peter had done for him that day.

“That sounds nice Buck. You enjoy dancing again?”

“Yeah, I missed it, y’know? Dancing ‘round the kitchen with you, pulling you up on my toes so that you wouldn’t trip.”

“Yeah. I miss those days, but I wouldn’t trade them for this health and safety the serum and 21st century have given us.” Steve smiled, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Peter asked me the weirdest question today.”

“Yeah, Buck?” His eyes were drooping closed, showing how tired he really was.

“Whether I liked Tony.” He was stroking Stevie’s face with the back of his hand and jumped as Steve’s eyes burst open and shifted harshly. 

“So… What’d you say Buck?” 

“I said yeah. I do Stevie. I really do. He’s just… perfect.” Bucky’s eyes were filled with love and a fondness Steve was used to having on him. Not that he was jealous, he probably looked the same. 

They both fell asleep with a smile, hands with their wedding bands locked. Neither woke up early, Steve forgoing his run and Bucky his surprise for breakfast in bed, not that either really cared. When they finally awoke, Stevie was over the moon to see a very happy and  _ very _ awake Bucky.

“Can we tell them? Can we tell them? Can we tell them? Please?” He gave his puppy dog eyes to Steve, jumping around the room full of energy.

“Of course Buck, wanna come down and see Tony with me? I’m sure he hasn’t eaten.” Steve half-sat up, looking at the excited man who resembled a giant labrador, both in enthusiasm and looks.

“Yeah.” His grin was infectious. 

“Now c’mere and cuddle with your  _ fiance _ .” 

“God, I’ll never get used to that.” Bucky said as he settled against Steve’s bare chest again.

“We did the first time.”

“Yeah we did. Mm.” Bucky closed his eyes, settling in close again.

They lay like that for another few minutes until Bucky was too jumpy for Steve to hold, and decided to go to Tony’s lab. They were both nervous, linking hands as Friday opened the elevator.

Tony was working on something in the corner of his lab, rushing around and pulling up schematics for an Iron Man suit while calculating the profits for SI. They didn’t know how he did it all, however when they stepped out of the elevator he stopped, turned around and broke out into a wild grin.

“Congratulations. Take that Tash.” He whispered the last part to himself. “Oh wait, sorry. You first.”

They looked at each other, grinning fondly. Leave it to Tony to ruin their big news in the cutest way possible.

“We’re engaged.” Bucky almost yelled, unable to hold it in anymore, grabbing Stevie’s hand and kissing the rings.

Tony ran up to them, going to hug them and then stopping. He straightened himself up and cleared his throat. “Um, congratulations.”

Steve looked a little upset at the reaction from Tony, while Bucky just grabbed him. “You can hug us Stark.”

He melted into the super soldier's embrace as Steve wrapped around his other side. “This is nice.” Tony whispered, obviously not expecting them to hear it.

They stood like that for a few minutes until Tony finally pulled away. “Uh, you should. You guys should tell the others.” The air was really awkward and Tony was ready to turn back to work.

“Hey baby doll, wait a minute.” 

Tony flushed red, turning around, not expecting the soldier to lunge at him. His mouth was on Bucky’s and he felt like he was flying as he pulled the supersoldier closer by the back of his shirt and gave a guttural groan. He pulled back in a daze as Bucky smirked, looking all the part of a Brooklyn flirt he’d been before the war.

“I’m assuming since Steve hasn’t punched me yet, this is all good?” He motioned between where and Bucky and he stood.

Steve let out a groan, grabbing his chin. “More than.” The kiss was unlike anything he’d ever had before. 

“Fri. Activate code Star-Spangled.” He said, forehead pressed against Steve’s panting deeply. 

The Star Spangled Man With A Plan started playing as blue, white and red streamers came down and Steve looked so put out, as Buck laughed his arse off. 

“I’m just saying, if our first kiss was like fireworks, we deserve the rest of the celebration.” He winked at Steve, who just groaned.

“Jesus Tony, that was- that was so bad.”

“Yet you love it.” He grinned cheekily back.

“I do.” Steve conceited with a nod.

After trading a few more kisses, they went downstairs as customary after obtaining a new boyfriend.

“I got more!” Tony announced as the elevator opened, the team sitting around watching a documentary, all gathered at Peter’s request.

“Course you did Tony.” Sam stood up pecking him on the cheek in lieu of a greeting.

“And pay up Tash.” She sighed pulling a wad of cash from her pocket and pulling out a few notes. Peter leaned down from where he was hanging upside down on the ceiling, giving Bucky a fistpump and a wink, Bruce kept watching the screen, fascinated by the documentary and Clint walked in with more snacks.

“Welcome to the  _ We Love Tony Club _ , I’m assuming you have more news from the wad of cash in Stark’s hand?” Clint strolled in.

“We’re engaged.” Bucky squealed, eyes alight and smile bright.

The room was filled with congratulations and warm voices and Tony couldn’t feel more blessed for this little family he had, as Peter curled into his side, talking animatedly with Bucky and Sam, Steve and Clint roughhousing and then looking for Clint’s hearing aids and Bruce tucked into his side, murmuring mindlessly into his ear.

Even though it was Steve and Bucky getting married, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the real winner.


End file.
